


all your friends are gonna say, that's really super, supergirl

by swwf17



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen, post episode 4x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 22:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18485644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swwf17/pseuds/swwf17
Summary: Everyone's favorite Kaznian klone makes some unexpected friends.





	all your friends are gonna say, that's really super, supergirl

_“Keep a low profile.”_

Eve’s voice was slightly distorted–flat and far away through the burner phone she had provided. The condescension and disdain, however, was readily apparent, in spite of the poor connection.

“Low profile,” she parroted back, slow and deliberate. 

“I’m not falling for that again,” Eve huffed on the other end of the line. “I know you know what it means.”

She smirked. “No, please. I require another poorly articulated explanation.” 

At which point Eve hung up.

She did not put the phone in her pocket right away. Instead, she waited, eyeing the screen expectantly. 

_один, два…_

She didn’t even get to three before the phone began to buzz, announcing a text message.

Or, rather, a string of text messages, many of which contained words unfit for polite conversation, conveniently in Russian, so that she’s be able to fully appreciate them.

The final text contained the instructions Eve had failed to give her, thanks to her abrupt and somewhat petty closing to their phone conversation.

_Wait for my call. Don’t leave the park, and don’t do anything **stupid.**_

She replied to Eve’s message with the small, smiling yellow face wearing a halo, and pocketed the phone, uninterested in whatever string of curses or irate yellow faces Eve was no doubt in the process of sending. She ignored the buzzing in her jacket and moved to a small, isolated bench along one of the paths in the park.

It was overcast, and fairly breezy. She didn’t mind the weather, of course–she barely felt the chill in the air–but it seemed to put off the residents of National City. There were only a handful of people making use of the walking trails, and the athletic fields were basically deserted.

She pulled the brim of her cap lower and sat back on the bench, tentatively expanding the scope of her hearing. She hadn’t done that much, since Kaznia. She didn’t like the intrusive sounds of the city, beyond the green boundaries of the park.

There were no gunshots, at least. …For the present, anyway.

She tried to focus on the scant bird calls, and gentle rustling of leaves. A nearby creek provided a nice distraction, as she listened to the water make its gradual, winding way through reeds and over rocks. Occasionally, someone would jog close to the creek’s edge, and she’d pick up broken bits of conversation. She didn’t mind; she let the words fade into a meaningless jumble, not even bothering to translate.

But the sudden, high peel of childish laughter caught her off guard. She stiffened, thoughts turning traitorously to Mikhail, and an afternoon spent listening to his breathless retelling of a lunchtime relay race at school.

She shook her head, willing the memories away.  _Focus on the water again,_  she told herself sternly.  _Focus on–_

Something brushed against her leg, startling her. She looked down, curious.

A familiar black and white pattern greeted her, and set her teeth on edge.

She lurched forward on the bench, hands gripping the wood so tightly that it splintered. Her frantic gaze swept the park. This had to be…some kind of trick. A cruel, terrible trick…perhaps Eve, getting back at her…?

But she didn’t see Eve. In fact, the park was just as empty as it had been a few minutes ago. So…who…?

“There it is!”

“I see it, I see it!”

A trio of children rounded the bend in the path, but only one of them moved to come collect the ball; the other two–they looked like they were a bit younger–came to an abrupt stop as soon as they saw her and hung back, clearly shy.

This did not deter the oldest girl, though.

“Sorry about our ball!” she said it in a rush, with something of a perfunctory air. The girl stooped to grab the ball–still at her own boot-clad feet–and seemed to be in the process of apologizing once more for good measure. “We didn’t mean to–” The girl’s eyes met her own, and her sentence tapered off.

They stared at each other for several long seconds, neither of them saying anything.

And then, rather suddenly, the girl turned on her heel and ran back to the other children, barely skidding to a halt before starting to whisper excitedly.

She ignored them and pulled her cap even lower, eyeing the damage to the bench. She wondered if Eve would consider the splintered wood ‘something stupid.’

“ _It’s her!_ ”

“Nuh- _uh.”_

“It is!”

“Is not! She’s not wearing a  _skirt!”_

The children continued their bickering, which was their business. But she didn’t like how they kept glancing back in her direction. She could imagine it: one of them rushing off to alert their parent about the suspicious-looking stranger on the park bench. 

There were several ways to deal with that, of course. Most of which  _definitely_  would fall under the ‘doing something stupid’ category that Eve had expressly forbidden.

She stood to leave the park. It was the lesser of two evils, in this case.

“Um!” 

She glanced over her shoulder. It was the girl, the one with the football. 

_Ignore her._  It was the obvious choice.

And yet. Her feet stalled.

“I was telling my brother–that’s my brother, over there,” she pointed at one of the other children. Specifically, the one who was attempting to hide a shy, nervous smile by ducking behind the third child; a girl who looked a little older than the boy, but younger than the first girl. “And my brother’s friend–that’s my brother’s friend, right there–I was telling them that you look just like Supergirl, and I thought…maybe it’s because you  _are_  Supergirl, but my brother says you’re not, because you’re not wearing a cape or a skirt or anything, but then  _I_  said that you were probably just washing it, because it got dirty or something, and then–”

“I am not her.” She cut the girl off, the words sounding more stern than she’d intended.

“…Oh,” the girl said, shoulders sagging with disappointment. “Well. Okay. Sorry, um. Thank you.”

And as the girl turned to go, she felt…badly. That she had been so blunt. She wanted to leave, yes. And maintain her cover.

But she didn’t want to…hurt a child’s  _feelings_.

“You…” the words started tumbling out before she could think better of it, “you like…football?”

Now it was the girl who glanced back over her shoulder, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

“What?”

She pointed to the black and white ball in the girl’s arms. “That’s not a football,” the girl said.

“It’s a  _soccer_  ball!” the girl’s brother spoke up helpfully.

She offered a grateful smile. “Ah, right. Soccer. Thank you.”

Her reply sent the boy giggling and hiding behind his friend once more. 

“Me and Emma are pretty good, but Jack won’t quit touching the ball,” the oldest girl explained, glaring at her brother. “That’s against the  _rules_  Jack.”

Jack stuck his tongue out in response.

“You wanna see how good we are at passes?”

And though it was probably very ill-advised, to stay and risk drawing attention to herself, or blowing her cover, she found herself agreeing, moving to stand at the edge of one of the fields, and watched as the three kicked the ball back and forth.

(Well. Two, mostly. Jack spent most of his time either running between the two girls, or sitting and picking at the dandelions growing in the grass.)

As she watched, she had to admit that they were very good at passes. 

“I’m gonna kick it really hard this time!”

“Okay!”

At the oldest girl’s warning, Jack and Emma ran further down the field in an attempt to receive the pass. They  _almost_  had it, but the kick was solid, and the ball sailed right past them.

She reacted without thinking, planting herself in the path of the ball, allowing it to thump against her collarbone and drop to her waiting foot, where it sat, balanced, until she flicked it upwards, bouncing it off her thigh, back to her foot, and then her thigh again.

“…Whoa,” she heard Emma breathe. By now, all three of them had run over, and were watching her closely with wide eyes.

She smiled, and let the ball finally drop to the grass. She nudged it back to the trio.

“You’re  _good,”_ the girl said with obvious appreciation.

“I had a good teacher,” she replied truthfully.

“Can you show  _us_  how to do that?”

She hesitated.

Could she?

“…I can try,” she offered, which seemed agreeable to the three of them.

And that was how she found herself reciting Mikhail’s patient, thorough instructions to her three new acquaintances, smiling at each success, and diligently working through each setback. (Of which there were many, particularly in Jack’s case.)

“I think I got it!” the oldest girl declared, proudly (if somewhat unsteadily) balancing the ball on her foot. She mimicked the kind of flicking motion, and sent the ball upwards.

It didn’t have enough momentum to get  _too_  far, and when it landed on her thigh, it rolled and fell to the ground, instead of bouncing.

“That was very good,” she told the girl, who didn’t look a bit put-off by the lack of bounce. “If you practice, it will be even better.”

“Yeah!” she enthusiastically agreed. She was about to attempt it again, but they were interrupted by a sudden call.

“Okay kids, pack it in! We’re going home!”

The groans of protest were loud and long.

“If you aren’t all in the car by the time I count to ten, you’re gonna lose some privileges!  _One!”_

“We gotta go,” the oldest girl explained as Emma and Jack ran towards the source of the shout. “Thanks for teaching us and stuff! I’m Mia, by the way. What’s your name?”

Mia gazed at her expectantly, football tucked under one arm.

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She had no name to give.

There was Linda, she supposed. But that was a lie…and she didn’t want to lie. Not to children.

Kara Zor-El?

…Maybe…

“Mia!”

“I’m coming!” Mia yelled. “I really gotta go,” she said, starting towards the other end of the field. “Bye!”

“It’s–” she called after Mia. The girl paused, and turned. “…Supergirl.”

Mia stared for a moment, mouth slightly agape, before a broad, delighted grin displaced her shock.

“Ohmygosh, I  _knew_  it! I knew you were Supergirl! I  _told_  Jack–”

She brought a finger up to her mouth–a fairly universal sign for  _shhhh_  and  _keep this a secret._

Mia seemed to understand, nodding her head earnestly.

“…But I can tell Jack and Emma, right?”

She considered this for a moment.

“…Yes.”

“ _YES!_  Thanks Supergirl! Bye, Supergirl!”

She waved as Mia ran off, excitedly yelling at Jack and Emma. For her part, Mia did  _not_  shout the secret out across the soccer field. Not that it would matter if she  _did_. As soon as the children were turned away, and she was sure no one was watching, she took off, moving at a speed that made her imperceptible to the human eye. Any claims of having played soccer with Supergirl would be chalked up to childish imagination.

She touched down several miles away, and sent a brief text updating Eve as to her location.

Many angry yellow faces followed.

Nevertheless, Eve arrived some time later in a nondescript SUV, scowling as she unlocked the passenger side door.

“What did I say?” she snapped. “I said  _stay in the park_. I said  _don’t do anything stupid_.”

“I didn’t do anything stupid,” she said with a shrug and climbed into the car. 

“Oh? What do you call this, then?” Even wanted to know as she turned her attention to the road.

She thought of Mikhail. Of learning games, and listening to stories…and how she had shared those things with the children here, in National City.

“…Fun,” she decided, marveling at her own answer. “…I call it. Fun."

**Author's Note:**

> \- I have no idea when this would take place in the show timeline. B/c I imagine those kids wouldn’t be too keen on talking to Supergirl after she burned down the White House?  
> \- Speaking of. Don’t talk to strangers. Even if they look exactly like Supergirl.  
> \- The Russian was provided by Google, so there’s a good chance it’s wrong. Apologies.  
> \- Title from XTC's "That's Really Super, Supergirl"


End file.
